


Time and Time Again

by Elizabeethan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anti-Baelfire, Anti-Neal, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), like very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: The jungle makes her uneasy. Everything makes her assume the worst. She hasn't felt this anxious in years. There’s one person who doesn’t make her feel that way, though.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 118
Collections: CS Neverland New Year





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day I’ll cool it with the Neverland AUs... today is not that day.
> 
> So, while bored as hell, I was scrolling through my docs and I saw “untitled” and said hmmmm what are you? And I found something interesting! A short piece of this was written back when I was very newly working on It’s About Bloody Time for a scrapped plot that features a more anxious Emma and a more monstrous Neal. Some of this may be familiar in that case, if you read that one. I added some pieces to it and we now have some Neverland hurt(fear)/comfort posted for @neverlandnewyear. It’s a one shot and I don’t intend to add any more to this but that doesn’t mean it wont happen  
> Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being the best beta ever and hashing out this plot with me (but not for trying to get me to make this a MC 😡)❤️

He says he wants what’s best for her, but he doesn’t even know what that is. She told him her feelings wouldn’t change, hell, she literally told him that she wished he had _died_ , and he still said that he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. What makes him think she wants him to fight for her? What makes him think he had ever started fighting in the first place?

So, when Neal says he wants to stop for water and to relieve himself on their way back to Tink’s, Emma doesn’t object to a short break. She feels as though she had worked off her frustrations with the arduous walk through the trees, leading the way and setting a fairly fast pace. She sits on a rock as Neal steps away from the group of three, leaving just Emma and Hook alone with the noisy, humid jungle.

“I apologize, Emma,” he starts softly. “I realize that my foolish actions could have placed your son at risk, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Emma isn’t surprised to hear Hook’s voice through the sounds of the birds and insects surrounding them. “You put yourself at risk, too. That was stupid, Hook. How the hell are we supposed to get off this island without you to sail the ship back to Storybrooke?”

He smirks slightly, breathing out a soft sigh and taking out his leather covered flask. “I’m sure you would have found a way. Bae was rather skilled at captaining, back in the day.”

Emma rolls her eyes, grabbing the flask when he offers it to her as he sits down on the same rock. “Well, that plan would have been foiled too if the both of you had your shadows ripped from your bodies. Then the only option would be to have the Dark One sail us home.” He narrows his eyes at her and takes the flask back. She can tell that he knows she’s joking but hopes that he can see her point.

“The Dark One is lucky to have a place on my ship at all. There is not a chance in all the realms that he steps foot behind the wheel.”

She scoffs lightly. “Remember that next time you want to try and impress me by doing something dumb.”

“Your wish is my command, love.” She expects to see a smirk on his face, but instead is met with his eyes making contact with hers, looking serious under his dark brows.

She stands up again, unable to sit still. She’s still keyed up from earlier in the Dark Hollow, and she feels herself getting jittery and restless after not moving for a few moments.

Hook can apparently read her quite well, because he stands as well and offers her another swig from the flask. “You’ve got to calm down a bit, Swan. Perhaps I should go and fill your canteen as well?”

“No,” she answers immediately, surprising herself. “I mean, I’m okay. I have enough water, just… stay here.” She’s not sure what the hell has gotten into her, but suddenly the thought of being left alone in the jungle makes her skin crawl.

He smirks again, raising a brow before saying, “as you wish, Swan.” She half expected him to respond with some sort of brazen flirty comment, but instead he’s silent for a few moments.

She nods, noting the anxiety still coursing through her, and he’s right. She does need to relax, but she can’t. She can’t get her mind off of Neal eventually making his way back through the jungle; keeps hearing him break through the trees and trying to talk to her again. The thought of Hook leaving for water and Neal coming back before Hook does sends her into a tailspin and suddenly, she’s nearly panicking. If Hook left now and Neal came back, he would absolutely try and have a conversation with her again, and she doesn’t want to even consider the fact that he’ll probably say something else about trying to _win her back._

“Swan? Emma, what is it, love? You’re turning white. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

She’s nodding again, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… don’t go anywhere, okay? I don’t need water.” She feels like she can hardly breathe, her chest rising and falling painfully. Hook is in front of her quickly, placing his hand on her left arm and looking into her eyes so intensely she thinks her head might explode. 

“Emma, what’s wrong?” 

With her chest heaving, she responds, “I’m okay, it’s fine.” She feels his hand running up and down her arm, his hook making similar motions on the other, and the cold metal contrasts her hot skin nicely. 

“Just talk to me, darling. What’s the matter?” Images of Neal coming back through the brush rush through her mind again, this time of him catching them in this compromising position and his possessive nature exploding out of him, and her breathing quickens. “Whatever it is, it’s alright. I’m here, I won’t go anywhere, love.”

She feels herself relaxing slightly at his statements, knowing that she won’t be alone and in danger of facing her own thoughts in the next few moments. But then Hook says, “you’re safe now and we’re going to get Henry just as soon as Baelfire returns,” and she feels a tightness in her chest again. 

“I don’t want- I mean-” she feels as though she can’t make a coherent thought as her breathing quickens some more. 

“Don’t want what, Swan? What’s on your mind?” His voice is so soft and soothing to her that she practically melts, almost able to let go of the steel grip her thoughts have on her.

It’s the tenderness in his voice that sways her to speak and distracts her from the ache in her ribs as her heart slams against them. “Neal, I don’t… I can’t face him. I don’t want to face him alone.” Hook’s face twists up, his brows pinching together and his lips pursing as if he’s deep in thought. 

“What do you mean, love?” She finally looks him back in the eyes and sees them swimming with worry. 

“I just… I just don’t want to talk to him now. I told him everything and he barely listened, and I don’t want to go through that right now. If you leave, nothing will stop him from...” she knows she’s rambling and hardly making sense, but she gets a feeling like Hook understands what she’s saying. 

“Is this about your secret?” She nods. “Because you told him how you feel?” Another nod. “But then he and I were idiotic, and you nearly lost him again, is that it?” His perceptiveness impresses her, but she can’t shake the feeling that something he said isn’t quite on the money. “He’s your first love, Swan. It’s perfectly normal for you to fear losing him.” 

“I don’t think that’s it,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not scared of losing him, I’ve already lost him and come to terms with it. I think I’m just scared of him hurting me again.” Emma is astonished at how much she’s opening up to Hook, but at the same time, feels as though he’s the best person to have this conversation with. If one person understands getting over the loss of a loved one, it’s Hook. 

“You don’t want to talk to him because you’re worried that he’ll hurt you?”

“I _know_ he will, eventually.” 

“It must be difficult to have so little trust in the person you love,” he remarks thoughtfully, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t know just how wrong he is. 

“I don’t love him,” she proclaims seriously. 

“Oh,” he responds. He nods, folding his lips into his mouth and looking about as awkward as she thinks she’ll ever see him. 

“I don’t…” she starts, but isn’t sure if she should continue. She isn’t sure when she let her guard down in front of him. Just moments ago she was shouting at him for acting stupid and now all of a sudden she’s spilling her heart for him? “I don’t know if I ever did.” 

He nods again and looks to the ground, his feet shuffling uncomfortably as he says, “I see. So your confession, then…?” 

She shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I must have loved him in my own way, back before everything happened between us, but… if not for Henry…” 

“So what’s brought this on then, love?”

His question shouldn’t feel so profound. She should know why she feels the way she does; why anxiety is ripping through her at the thought of being with the man she once trusted. But somehow, she has an answer. “He scares me. I know what he’s capable of, and I know… I know what he’s done in the past. He could do it again.” 

“What did he do?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“He left us.” Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only person here who doesn’t assume she’s going to get back with Neal. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only person here who has known Neal before. There has to be a logical explanation to the fact that she’s opening up to him more now than she has with anyone else. “Me and Henry,” she continues. “He set me up for his crimes and I had his baby in prison because he abandoned me. What’s to say he won't abandon us again, here?”

He’s looking up at her instantly, the intensity in his gaze nearly suffocating. His brows are pinched together in great concern, and his mouth hangs open just slightly, as if he’s shocked speechless. Before she knows what he’s doing, he’s stepping towards her and taking her hand in his. 

“You will not be left on this island,” he says with ferocity. “I will never let that happen. You will have Henry safe in your arms if I have to lose my other hand to make it so.”

She chokes over his words, her throat drying and her forehead hurting with how hard she’s pinching her brows together. She can’t help but to squeeze his hand back, suddenly taking great comfort in his warm presence. Appreciating the way his fingers squeeze hers, grounding her. “You really mean that, don’t you?” 

“Of course I mean it. We’re getting Henry off this island the moment we’re able.” 

The island is so hot and humid, but the warmth he’s bringing her with just her hand in his is intoxicating, and she can’t help but to lean closer to him for more. The closer she gets, the easier it is to let out the breath she’s been holding. When she lets her head drop to his bare chest, her forehead tickled by the coarse hair, he releases her hand from between their bodies and wraps his arm around her shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers, relaxing into her as she does the same, his face pressing to her hair. “We’re going to get off this island. I‘ll keep you and Henry safe, I promise you.” She nods into his chest again, pulling herself into his hold. Their breathing steadies, matching in pace, and his hand slinks up and down her spine soothingly. 

“I know,” she whispers against him, hugging around his waist tighter, although she isn’t sure why.

No, she does know. What’s shifted in the short time since they’ve been here she isn’t sure— perhaps it’s his stifling honesty or the intense set of his jaw when he tells her how he feels. She knows that she trusts him. She can’t let him go. 

“Emma, what the _hell_?!” she hears from behind him, and she startles but doesn’t release her iron grip around Hook’s waist. Her breathing quickens once more, and she’s panting now as he squeezes her tight before releasing his own grip on her.

“I—” she starts, but he cuts her off. 

“We’re in the middle of the damn jungle and I step away for five minutes, and here you are with him? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you? The whole reason for us being here is to get our son back and you’re fucking shacking up with the _pirate_? Are you deranged?”

She sees something flick in Hooks eyes and he turns suddenly. “Don’t speak to her that way,” he hisses, his voice low and menacing in his chest. 

“I don’t need your input on this, pirate! You certainly don’t need to speak for Emma, I’m sure she’s capable of defending herself.”

“ _Defending herself?”_ he booms, taking a step away from her and towards Neal. “She needs not to defend herself for anything she’s done. Can you say the same, Baelfire?” 

She raises her brows in surprise at his words but says nothing, choosing to let Neal respond on his own. 

He lets out an awkward chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, as if there was nothing else he could think to utter. 

“Right,” Hook scoffs. “Let’s carry on, then. We’re but moments from Tink’s and I’d like to get off this bloody island.”

~~~~

She’s crying. 

No one else is awake, no one else can hear, but she’s crying. She’s sitting all alone on her mat and she’s _crying._

Whatever it was that Neal did to her all those years ago— the abandonment, the betrayal— the impact that it’s having on her now is clear. She spoke of her fear of being abandoned again. Of being left on this island by someone she once trusted. She’s been failed by every person here, and the dread of being failed again is valid. 

He just wishes she wasn’t crying. It pains him to hear her struggling so hard to hide her soft whimpers and involuntary sniffles. She agreed to keep first watch so the others could rest, but Killian finds sleep impossible to come by because of the poignant sounds coming from his right. 

He’s certain she can’t be watching for much, her soft sobbing likely distracting from any potential threats, so he finally moves to stand, startling her and causing her to sit up straight and wipe at her cheeks. “It’s alright, love. Only me, I’ll take over watch,” he murmurs softly, making his way towards her and noting easily the way her shoulders drop again as she lets her guard down, somehow. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, as if thinking she woke him. 

“There’s no need to be.” 

They sit in silence for a bit, appreciating the roaring fire before them, and he pokes open another coconut for her to drink down quietly. He notes that she’s stopped crying, but that doesn’t rid her of the wrought emotion displayed on her face and the occasional deep gulps of breath she seems to take involuntarily. 

“We’ve a good plan,” he tries to assure her after a beat of silence. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to beat him.” 

“I know,” she nods, biting her lip. “There’s just something about this island that makes me feel so…” 

She sighs, unable to go on, so he supplies, “uneasy? Unwanted? Unloved?” 

“Exactly,” she breathes out. 

“I know the feeling, darling, but I assure you, it’s far from the truth in your case.” 

“Just,” she continues brazenly, ignoring his sentiment. “Like earlier, for example. Mary Margaret talked to me about Neal, I guess she overheard us before.” He bristles at the thought of her mother overhearing their conversation, but lets her continue on. “And the whole time she was trying to make sense of what happened, but I couldn’t shake the feeling like she was, I don’t know, _judging_ me. For not wanting to be with him. Like she couldn’t believe I wouldn’t want to be with my first love even though he ruined my life.” 

Truthfully, he almost doesn’t doubt that that’s _exactly_ what the young royal thought. If there’s one thing he’s learned about this crowd, it’s that true love is very important to them. The idea of her wanting Emma to be with Bae simply because they have a history together doesn’t seem too far from logical. 

“So are you saying she doesn’t feel that way?”

With a shrug, she answers, “I don’t know. But I feel like I took the worst possible message of what she was trying to say, you know?” 

“Aye,” he agrees, though he thinks he may not actually know. 

“But I never… I never have that feeling with you.” His breath hitches. Rather than responding, he turns to his right to face her and hopes that she elaborates. “I just feel like I can always take you at face value, I guess.” 

He can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. He doesn’t try to stop it. Lifting his arm slightly in invitation, he rests it along the log they lean against and she tips towards him instantly. “I’m glad,” he murmurs once she settles. 

“We’re lucky to have you.” 

“And you.” 

After a beat not quite long enough, she presses away from him and takes the heat with her and he tries to hide his pout. But he doesn’t need to pout for long before she leans towards him and captures his lips between her own in a soft, slow kiss. It’s less heated than the last, but no less passionate. It stirs no less in him than the last had. With her hand meeting his cheek and his sliding up her back and into her hair, he can say with certainty that this is the only part of Neverland he’ll ever enjoy. 

She doesn’t pull away from him for some time, continuing to massage his lips with hers and eventually slipping her tongue to glide across his bottom lip until he grants her invitation. They tangle together but it’s no less gentle or tender as they sit beside one another and kiss away each other’s fears. 

“Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth once she breaks away just slightly. 

He isn’t sure if she thanks him for taking over the watch, or for the kiss, or for being here in general, but he knows it doesn’t matter. She need not thank him for any of it. Because when Emma Swan gives him a gentle smile and curls into a tight ball beside him, her head on his lap and her soft snores soothing him above the sounds of the eerie jungle, he knows he would do any of it and more for her, time and time again. 

~~~~

~~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Time and Time Again because I have no self control! Killian’s POV of when they get home from Neverland.
> 
> Thanks to @the-darkdragonfly for enabling me and then editing this

She’s the strongest woman he’s ever known. Of course, Milah was a fierce lass with fire in her heart, but there’s something about Emma Swan that seems to blow Milah’s disposition out of the water. 

Perhaps it’s the way she defeated one of the most cunning and menacing foes he’s ever known. That must be it. The way he’d tried to do it years ago, using sheer violence and residual anger, hadn’t even come close to working. Meanwhile, this bloody woman succeeds in a matter of weeks. 

He loves her; he can deny it no longer. 

She’s the smartest person he’s ever known. Her instinct is almost always correct and he hasn’t had a single moment in which he doesn’t trust her to the fullest extent. 

So he isn’t sure why no one seems to be listening to her. 

He’s surprised when she comes to him. It’s not with the intention of confiding in him, but it isn’t a difficult bridge to cross before she is. “There’s something wrong with Henry,” she tells him, voice soft and scared and desperate. She looks so small across the hall from him as she hugs herself. “I don’t know what, but…” 

“Alright, Swan,” he tries, hoping to comfort her, reaching through the space between them to touch his hand to her shoulder but careful not to get too close. “We’ll sort this out.”

He can’t move past the look of surprise on her face when he promises this, as if she’s shocked that someone would offer to help her- believe her. 

Rumplestiltskin defeats Peter Pan- his father, apparently- but the curse has already been cast and cannot be stopped. It’s determined that nothing can be done, save for Regina casting her own curse and bringing everyone back to the Enchanted Forest. 

Everyone but Henry. 

But not to worry, Emma escaped the first curse, so she can stay here with him. 

And Killian wants to kick and scream and revert back to the man he once was, not too long ago. The crocodile died a somewhat noble death, effectively taking away his chance at revenge, but it would’ve been alright. Because he would’ve had a chance to love Emma Swan and he suspects that would’ve been endlessly better than revenge. 

And now she’s leaving. 

And she’s crying again. 

And he knows he won’t survive this. 

“That’s quite the vessel you captain, Swan,” he says in a pathetic attempt to distract from the pain he’s feeling. 

She laughs in a way that tells him this hurts her too, and his assumptions are confirmed when she leans in close to him and draws him into a tight hug. “I don’t want to do this alone,” she whispers against him. 

He squeezes her back then pulls away to wipe a tear off of her cheek. He feels weak, but she needs strength, so he digs deep. “You aren’t alone, love,” he whispers back. “You have Henry, and we’ll all be with you, here.” He points to her heart, feeling the violent pace it takes as it slams in her chest. 

She chokes and sniffles but says nothing, so he supplies, “there’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you,” and he means it more than he’s ever meant anything. 

Through tears and strangled breaths she says, “good,” and supplies him with a smile that will surely haunt his dreams. 

He wants to kiss her. He’s not sure he can live with the memory of her lips on his and with the knowledge that it will never happen again. But her family is here and he thinks they know naught of their dalliances on the island, so he holds back. 

Regina talks of giving Emma and Henry memories that aren’t real to numb the pain of the loss they’ll feel. He’s glad that they won’t remember losing their family- that Emma won’t remember losing her parents  _ again _ \- but he feels jealousy. Forgetting her would be so much easier. 

But as he watches her cross the town line in her yellow contraption and the curse whisks them away, back to Misthaven, he knows he wouldn’t trade loving Emma Swan for anything in the world. 

~~~~

Six months pass painfully. Killian Jones knows loss, he’s experienced plenty of it in his centuries of life, and this is no easier. The loss of a love not yet bloomed is almost worse than the pain he felt when he lost Milah. At the end of the day, he knew what they had and how they changed each other. He wishes he could have that luxury with Emma. 

His crew tries desperately to help him move on. Of course, none of them know the pain he feels and why, but he’s certain that they can sense a change in their captain. He tries to move on as well, attempting to pirate distant lands and pillage royal carriages, but nothing seems to distract from what’s always on his mind. 

At month eight, they buy him a night with a woman- a brown-haired lass who stirs nothing in him. He pays her off and ignores the look of confusion on her face as he walks through the streets. The mermaid finds him, threatens him with a blade to his throat if he doesn’t help her, and he can’t fight the thoughts of a love lost that sprout in his mind. He can’t walk away without helping her because, as he painfully realizes, he knows how she feels. She at least has a chance to get her love back. 

But then he thinks having the  _ Jolly _ back will cure him of his ailments of the heart, so he behaves foolishly and throws Blackbeard overboard. It serves him right, truthfully, for stealing a man’s ship. But then the mermaid asks him if true love is worth more than a few planks of wood and a sail, and he knows that it is. He also knows that his love is lost from him, so a few planks of wood and a sail is all that he has and all that he’ll ever have again. 

The bird that lands on his helm is a surprise, and the note attached to her leg even more so. Another curse is coming, and Emma’s family needs her. It’s the first time he’s seen her name outside of his mind’s eye and his heart constricts in his chest, thumping painfully against his ribs. He thinks of her when he thinks of his ribs, of how she diagnosed them broken in the street and celebrated silently when she was proven correct, and wonders how morbid of a thought that is. 

A curse swept through Misthaven, making travel between realms possible again. The only problem is that he’s essentially destroyed any sense of trust between himself and the fire-haired mermaid who could make him a portal, so he must find another way. The thought of giving his ship back to Blackbeard, who was apparently saved by the siren, causes an ache in his chest that rivals the one he’s been feeling for the last year. But the thought of missing out on the chance to help Emma, to  _ see _ her again, blows that pain away and it’s the easiest decision he’s ever made. So he takes the bean and thinks of her when he tosses it to the ground. He’s never felt so hopeful.

~~~~

She knees him in the groin. It’s poetic, really, the way he tries True Love’s Kiss with her and she shoves him out the door without a hint of remembrance. But he knew it was a long shot. True Love’s Kiss doesn't work when one person doesn't remember the other. Perhaps it’s foolish for him to believe that she loves him. 

He watches as she struggles to answer the scrawny, unkempt man’s proposal. He wonders if it’s because of what he said to her, but he tries not to get his hopes up. He’s missed the fire in her voice, the sarcasm dripping from every word, more than he could have possibly imagined. 

She still doesn’t believe him despite having proof, and he shouldn’t be surprised when she chains him up again. He wonders fleetingly how many pairs of these handcuffs she owns as the officers haul him off and lock him in the brig. He’s been in worse, of course, but then they try and give him their strange meat and he knows he must escape. 

He’s just started working on his plan, wondering about the strength of the metal bars holding him in place and wishing he had his hook, when an officer opens the cage and sets him free. “You made bail,” she tells him, and Killian wonders what the bloody hell that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t waste the opportunity. Once he’s outside, he sees her golden hair and knows everything will be alright. 

And she believes him.  _ She believes him!  _ It’s almost too good to be true. She struggles with the decision, but he sees the moment that it’s made in her eyes. The moment she reaches for the vial in his fingers, her own grazing his and lighting a fire in him, and pulls it to her mouth. He sees her take a deep breath and prepare herself for all that is about to change for her. 

What he doesn't see is the man rushing by them, bumping into her back and causing her to drop the vial at their feet and destroy its contents. “No,” she says softly, sadly, as she looks down at the broken glass. “I was going to…”

She looks up into his eyes and he sees the same pain that was on display a year ago, when they lost each other. She looks lost and confused and disappointed at the idea of losing the chance to know herself again. She knows there’s something wrong, and she was moments from finding out exactly what it is before her opportunity was crushed at her feet. He can’t stand to see this look on her face. 

“Come, love,” he says, offering her his hand which she takes easily. He isn’t sure where they're going, but he can't sit idly by and not make an effort to sooth her worries. “Let’s get out of the street,” he suggests. 

She nods, pulling on his hand and leading him down the busy pavement as they weave through other pedestrians until they arrive at her building. He’s let in by her this time, doesn’t have to sneak in through the nearly closing door behind someone, and, once they get out of the metal death trap, he watches her take out a set of keys and open up her apartment door. She lets him in without a second thought and sets her things down, dropping onto the couch with a huff. 

“This is… it’s too much,” she finally says after moments of silence. 

He steps closer to the couch she rests on, her knees pulled to her chin and her arms hugging herself tightly, but does dare sit down. “I’m sorry,” he says uselessly. 

“It’s just that I… I feel like there's something wrong. Like something has always been off, but I've always just denied it. And just now, I was so ready to take that step and find out what my life is _supposed_ to be. And then it just slipped through my fingers.” 

“I wish I could fix this,” he says helplessly. “We needed to get back to your family, Emma. They need you and I… I need you.” 

Her brows pinch together and she releases her legs, standing quickly and looking as though she wants to walk over to him. “I don't know what we—” she stops herself pensively. “If we have some kind of history, or whatever. But it’s like… it’s like I trust you somehow. And I was looking forward to swallowing that shit and finding out  _ why _ I trust you so much. And you’re telling me I have to help my family, and even though I’ve never had one, I still believe you. And now knowing that I’ll never have the chance… it hurts so much, and I can’t put into words why.” 

She’s crying again. He can’t stop himself from stepping closer to her and taking her hand in his, pulling her as close to him as he can without actually touching his body to hers. All he wants is to hold her until her pain is gone. “I’m so sorry, love,” he says softly, and at the sound of his voice, he can feel her melting closer to him. “I wish I could fix this for you. All I want is to take away your pain; I wish I could bear it for you.” 

“I just want to know you,” she says, sinking closer until her forehead is pressed to his chest, and he wants to squeeze her like he did in Neverland. “I wish I knew who you were to me.”

“I’m yours,” he answers easily.

Her arms are around him and there’s no better feeling, until the pain of knowing that it isn’t her, not fully, sets in. He has to squeeze her to keep his tears at bay. “It doesn't make any sense,” she whispers again. “How I can feel this way about someone I don’t know— someone I don’t even remember ever knowing?”

“We did much together, you and I,” he says fondly. “We made quite the team.” 

“What happened to us?” 

“I lost you,” he whispers painfully, the words burning his throat on their way out. “For a year I suffered thinking I would never see you again. And then I found you, and, well…” He trails off, thinking of their first meeting and the damage she did to his pride and to his groin. 

She lets out a small chuckle against his chest, rustling the hairs slightly as she does so, and says, “sorry about that. But you were just some stranger and you kissed me!”

“Aye, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why did you?”

He falters just slightly before deciding to take the chance, unsure if the consequences of his honesty truly bother him. “It was a long shot. I was hoping the kiss would work to break… Well, I suppose I just hoped you felt as I do.” 

She pulls away from him just a bit so that she can look into his eyes from below him. She looks so small from this angle and he wants nothing more than to protect her; scoop her up in his arms and hold her close so that nothing can touch her. “How’s that?” 

With a soft, sad smile, he says simply, “I love you.” 

Emma cocks her head pensively, looking sad and dejected, but also hopeful. “I’m—” she starts, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I…” 

She cannot answer him with words, it seems, and instead, she leans forward towards him and slips up onto her toes, holding her arms around him a bit harder to keep her balance. He wishes he could pause this moment while also letting it play out; perhaps if he could relive it again and again, he would be content. Her lips find his and it’s as if there’s an explosion between them, a vibrant burst of rainbow light brightening the room as she slips her fingers into his hair and pulls him closer. 

“Killian,” she mumbles against his mouth, though he struggles to pull away from her after a year of knowing he would never see her again. He separates them minutely, his lips still grazing hers slightly as he whispers her own name back to her. “Did we just…?” 

He can hardly think of the words that leave her mouth because it’s still so close to his. Rather than responding, he kisses her once more and revels in the feeling of her lips massaging his as she kisses him back. “Aye,” he says against her, keeping her as close as possible. 

“I remember,” she whispers into his mouth, and she’s pulling away and looking gleefully confused. “That kiss…?” 

“All curses can be broken, love,” he tries to reason. 

Expecting to be met with panic and denial, he’s shocked to see some semblance of acceptance in her eyes as she says, “with True Love’s Kiss.” 

He smiles at her and cups her cheek in his palm. “You don’t need to say anything, darling. Having you back with me is enough.” 

She shocks him more still when she tugs him back to her, her lips crashing into his and her tongue seeking access to his mouth immediately. While their last kiss was soft and slow, this one is wanton and desperate, as if she can’t get him close enough to her. 

They should be focused on getting her and Henry back to Storybrooke. Whether their kiss broke the memory curse that made her forget her family, or the Dark Curse that brought them back to the Land Without Magic, he isn’t sure. It’s something they should be trying to figure out. But it’s impossible to focus on that when Emma Swan pulls Killian Jones onto her couch without breaking her lips from his. 

She doesn't ever stop kissing him. Not when she pushes his greatcoat off of his shoulders; not when she tugs his blouse over his head; not when she whispers  _ “I love you,”  _ into his mouth. Not when she wipes moisture off of his cheeks before it drips onto her own. 

Eventually they break apart, but it’s only when his own lips start to travel down her chin, along her throat, to her exposed chest. She only allows that for so long, sealing them back together and letting him swallow her moan as his fingers find her center. His tongue traces his love for her against her clit until she’s writhing beneath him and begging him to make her his. Obliging, he slides into her easily, fitting perfectly between her thighs and inside her tight core. Their foreheads never part as they make love to each other slowly, with a gentle force that expresses just how one feels about the other. 

They reach a precipice together, and he lets himself fall off the edge of the cliff he’s been hanging off of for the last year without her, plunging into the depths of what it is to love her and holding her the whole way down. He’ll never let go again.

There’s a knock on the door hours later, while they’re still bare and covered in only a small blanket. Their time spent sleeping and talking and holding each other and making love some more had to come to an end eventually, and Emma’s realization of who is at the door knocks them back into reality. “It’s Walsh, Henry invited him,” she explains as if he knows who that is, and she stirs from his hold on her. 

He tries to pull her so that her back stays put against his chest, but she giggles and pinches his side until he lets go, slipping out from under the small blanket and reaching for her shirt before he can get another good look at her. “I can get rid of him,” he offers. 

“No, my memories may not be real, but he is; I at least want to let him down easy.” 

He puts the pieces together as he gets dressed himself, only after watching her walk out the door with a promise to return. Walsh must be the man who proposed to her the other night. A sense of worry sets over him as he considers the worst possible outcome. The fact that she could decide to stay with him and send Killian away. Though he doesn't get much of a chance to let this scenario play out in his mind, because he hears a crash from above and rushes upstairs to see Emma alone on the roof, panting and holding a pipe in her hand. 

She hurries towards him once he opens the door, crashing into his hold and saying, “I was never safe.” 

If there’s one thing he vows now, it’s that she will never feel this way again. He whispers into her ear as they walk down the stairs that they’ll take care of this. They’ll go back to Storybrooke and deal with the threats as they’ll do everything else for as long as she allows: together. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr at elizabeethan :)


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